


Manufactured Smiles

by AlexanderTheGoodEnough



Category: All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Death, Dystopia, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), brace yourselves kids, its going to be emotional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-11-04 11:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10990212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderTheGoodEnough/pseuds/AlexanderTheGoodEnough
Summary: In the year of 2019, the world was struck by deadly solar flares, and the results were catastrophic. America is the only place left, where a major power struggle rages on in the district of California. BL/ind. is trying to create a brainwashed community of weaponized people, while the Killjoys are just fighting for freedom.





	1. Chapter 1

The sun hung low over the horizon, glowing a deep red as the day came to an end, tinging everything it could reach with a delicate pastel red.

The radiant sky appears as though it was set alight; with the sun lying at the center of hues of dark reds and dramatic oranges that spill over the sky, along with the occasional star that is just visible in the dusk light.

The sun sets across the desert, light withdraws from the land and soon the only thing worth looking at is a lithe figure sat on the bonnet of an archaic Trans Am in the empty parking lot of an abandoned 80's diner.

The figure's head is tilted slightly upwards as they observe the night sky. Their posture is relaxed, body propped up by their arms, and legs that are crossed lazily over, with feet dangling off of the bonnet.

Even in the low light, their shock of red hair is still visible, red hair that can only belong to one man;

Party Poison, leader of the Killjoys.

He reaches over and grasps a hold of an old kerosene lantern, the pale blue paint peeling off onto the bonnet due to disuse.

BL/Ind. had scavenged the entirety of California, taking whatever technology they deemed useful, that meant torches, phones, computers, were all gone.

Food had luckily been ignored, meaning the killjoys could travel from abandoned diner to diner and motel to motel, and survive on the food they found there. The other option was to raid the supplies of BL/ind. but considering they were stashed within the walls of Battery City, that option was rarely attempted.

Party digs his hand into his jacket pocket and extracts a cheap lighter. Flicking it alight, he holds the flame against the cotton wick of the lantern until it catches fire.

He releases the catch on the lighter, replaces it within his pocket, then adjusts the vents of the lantern so he's left with a bright orange flame that casts a small circle of light around him.

In the light, he becomes more visible; grey skinny jeans hug his legs while a blue biker jacket with red and white accents across the sleeves, clings to his torso. On the right-hand side of his chest, a small patch reads 'Dead Pegasus' and bears the symbol of a crudely drawn red unicorn.

Adorning the back of the jacket is Party Poisons logo, a red pill with a red cross underneath, all within a red circle.

Boots of similar colours to the jacket cover his feet, while his ever-present yellow ray gun is strapped to his thigh.

A small half face mask sits on the bonnet next to him, mainly yellow with black triangles above and below the eyes along with three blue circles, one on the left side, one on the right and one on the forehead.

The silence that has fallen upon the desert is both suffocating and comforting, and is warmly embraced by Party, who is sick and tired of the fights against the Dracs he is constantly involved in.

Hate them as he does though, he thrives off the thrill of life as a killjoy: The quick and dangerous raids of BL/ind.'s temporary camps, the feel of the Trans Am's engine purring beneath him and his fellow killjoys as they make their way through the desert in a dramatic cloud of dust, the gratitude of the people they manage to save, and, strangely enough, the feeling he gets when he's with Fun Ghoul. Call him a hopeless romantic but Party is head over heels for him.

But of course, Ghoul doesn't know that. Or at least, Party hopes he doesn't, because he knows for a fact that whatever Fun Ghoul feels for him, its definitely _not_   love.

And speak of the bloody devil, Ghouls voice echoes across the empty parking lot, calling out to Party.

"Oi Poison! Get your ass back in the diner!"

Party glances over his shoulder back towards the building in which the killjoys were temporarily residing. He could see the bright flare of a fire within the building, the only source of light visible, aside from the incandescent glow of kerosene lantern.

The once lurid, neon lights that adorned the outside of the building were unlit, due to electricity being a rarity. The front of the diner was dusty and unclean due to it constantly battling the harsh winds that were the only thing the desert could provide.

Old, metal signs advertising things like 'kids eat free after 3pm' and 'Limited Time Only! TDK Slammer', were scattered about the empty parking lot, blown over in said desert wind, and beginning to rust.

It was a beautifully depressing sight - A melancholic burlesque of what once was.

To be honest, as close as he was to the others, he preferred to be alone. Alone to think.

Thinking was something Party did a lot, whether it was looking back on the utter hell he'd been though, or simply how they were going to find their next meal, he seemed to always be deep in his own head.

Months alone shackled in a basement will supposedly do that to a man.

Party took one last look at the sky before sliding off the cars bonnet, grabbing a hold of the kerosene lantern as he did so, and made his way over to the other killjoy.

Subtly, his gaze raked up Ghoul's ever perfect form; A long sleeved yellow shirt with black stripes barely contained muscled biceps while a khaki army vest hung off Ghoul's shoulders just as slightly baggy cargo pants, held up by an old military cord belt, sadly covered up Ghouls fantastic ass. The black, leather shoulder holster that usually held his gun was empty, instead, the painfully green ray gun that never left Ghoul's side was loosely clutched in his hand – protection from the entities that lurked in the dark of the desert.

Black hair that was a similar length to Party's was messily pushed back, tucked behind Ghoul's ears, but a few strands had slipped loose, falling forward to frame his angular face; His soft cheekbones contradicted his structured jaw, of which Party was 90% sure could cut through glass, and thin, pink lips, that Party definitely did not want to kiss, were made even more desirable by a lip piercing that was a plain, black ring that matched the rest of his outfit.

But Ghoul's eyes, were, by far, the most intriguing; The inner circle of colour was a light brown which faded into a light green. Then, the outer ring, was a dark shade of green, so dark in fact, that it could be counted as black.

All in all, Party would never tire of looking at Ghoul.

And before Party could apologize for staring, Ghoul opened that pretty mouth to speak;

"The fuck are you lookin' at?" 

Caught unawares, Party stumbled over his reply. "Uh, n-nothing."

Ghoul's eyebrows furrowed and he looked so adorably confused that Party's breathe hitched. 

"Right." The other man said, with an air of doubtfulness coating his words.

Party didn't respond, and all of a sudden, a very tense silence sprung up between the two, and Party averted his gaze away from Ghoul's captivating eyes.

"Aw, don't look away, I know you were admiring my good looks."

Party tried to arrange his expression into one of disgust, to cover up the fact that he was indeed, admiring Ghoul's good looks. 

"No." He said defensively, fist clenching around the handle of the kerosene lantern. "No, i wasn't."

"Whatever you say, pretty boy." Ghoul responded with a devilish smirk, as he turned and made his way back to the doorway of the diner, leaving the other man behind in shock at the nickname.

After regaining his senses, Party let out a shaky breath and followed the small killjoy to the door of the diner whereupon Ghoul held open the door for Party before following him in.

The vintage style of the place; booths, neon signs, bright in-your-face colours, had long since been ruined; Covered in many a layer of dirt, grime, and even blood from previous fights could be seen around the place. The smashed-in-windows were covered with alarmingly bright blue tarpaulins to hold off the worst of the weather, while the missing glass had been brushed into dangerous heaps to later be constructed into some form of bomb. In the centre of the diner was a fire, which looked like it was actually a small chunk of burning table. It was being watched by the 'mother' of the group; Jet Star.

Jet Stars clothes, consisting of a leather jacket, skinny jeans, boots that reached his mid-thigh, a simple tee, and an astronaut style helmet, were all black apart from his blue ray gun that was strapped to his thigh just like Party's.

He sat absently by the burning table, staring somewhat into space.

"Hey Jet, you okay? I thought Party was supposed to be the one who's stuck in his head" Ghoul questioned.

Party threw him a look before walking over to Jet, squatting down, and placing a hand upon his shoulder.

"Anything wrong Jet?"

Jet lifted his gaze to meet Party's. "No, I just miss the kid."

Party's gaze softened in sympathy, he knew how much Jet cared for the kid. They were practically family.

"I'm sure Dr. D's looking after her just fine" Party reassured before standing back up.

"I know, I know, I just, miss her, ya know?"

"Well we're expecting a broadcast from him soon, so he can give us our next job, we can drop off at his on the way to check in on her." Piped up Ghoul.

Jet smiled at them both, happy to be given the chance to see the kid.

"Oi Party!" Called out a voice. "Catch!"

Party turned around quick enough to catch the small black object that had been chucked his way. It was an electronic razor.

Silence fell over the people within the diner; they all knew the story behind the simple razor. Even Ghoul - who Party was pretty sure hated him with all of his being- was aware of the significance of the story that went right back to the first years of the end of the world. Of the story that went right back to when Party had been captured by BL/ind.

Party looked up from the razor, to see his brother, Kobra Kid, lying on the long 80's style counter.

His bright red, signature leather jacket was slung over one of the few remaining bar stools that stood next to said 80's counter, that also seemed to double as a bar.

He was wearing a shirt that looked like it could've once been a garish yellow and black tiger esque pattern but was now covered in so much grime that the former pattern was now undetectable.

Lanky legs clad in black skinny jeans were nonchalantly crossed over on the counter and laced combat boots were tapping out a rhythm, along to the faint song emitting from the headphones on Kobra's head. The white headphone wire meandered across the counter-top, till it reached its end, where upon a decrepit, dusty Walkman lay discarded amongst the other detritus that had been impetuously relinquished there.

On his hands were fingerless gloves, the leather worn smooth from plethoric use, of which one was propping him up, while the other held an old bottle of Jack Daniels.

"I know you hate it big bro, but your hair's getting too long"

"Right" Party replied, through gritted teeth.

It was typical of killjoys to have drastically cut and colourfully dyed hair. (Except from Jet because he's the responsible one)

Kobra had bright blonde hair, Party's was red and Ghoul's was atramentous.

Party's boots thudded against the tiled floor as he made his way towards the small dilapidated bathroom at the back of the diner.

The door to the bathroom creaked as he pushed it open.

Once he was within the stall, he turned around, shut the door, then locked it.

His hands grasped the side of the sink, the razor lay forgotten on the side.

One shaking hand reached out and turned on the tap before both hands cupped under the flow of water and splashed it on his face.

Out of instinct, his hand stretched out to grasp a hold of a towel before it froze as Party realized his mistake – there was no towel to grab, the few remaining towels had been taken by either BL/ind. or the Killjoys to be used in replacement of bandages. Medical supplies were sporadic and often had to be substituted for things unsuited for the job.

You may be wondering why Party seems to be afraid of a simple electric razor.

Well, there's a story behind his fear.

And that story begins when Party was taken captive by BL/ind.

In the beginning, BL/ind. seemed like the good guys, offering safety to dying civilians.

They operated at the heart of Battery City, and the residents of the city became used to their presence and ruling.

People believed that the world would slowly go back to normal, that humanity would restore itself – that BL/ind. would simply help towards the rebuilding of society.

But alas, they were wrong.

In the year 3024, BL/ind. decided that they wanted more than just brainwashed civilians, they wanted soldiers. Or weapons, rather.

And thus, began the abduction of those who hadn't joined BL/ind.

Within just a few months, thousands had been deported to research labs where they would be tested on or changed into Dracs. Often enduring months upon months of severely harsh punishment before they went one of two ways: Brainwashed Draculoid or dead.

Once people realized that the people taken weren't being given 'a better life' but were, in fact, being essentially murdered, they began to flee the city.

BL/ind, intent on stopping the now refugees, did what China and Germany had done and what Donald trump intended to do, and built a wall surrounding the city.

The wall was a ten-foot-tall, two feet wide concrete slab and on the outside, was a secondary barbed wire fence.

In between the two was a patch of land, which was known as dead-man's land, due to it being vacant except from watch towers every 300 metres and the deceased bodies of those who weren't lucky enough to make it over.

This wall stopped the evacuation of many innocent people, as Dracs were stationed on the watch towers, along with an elite weapons amnesty, and the order to shoot on sight.

 

**_-_ **

**_3026 - Battery City_ **

"Mikey, c'mon, we need to go now. It's the only chance we've got."

"No Gerard! We can't just up and leave Mom and Dad like this!"

"Yes, we can."

"No, we can't!"

"Mikey, they're a part of this. They're part of the reason as to why my back is a scarred, bloody mess!"

"The hell do you mean?!"

"Does the phrase 'repressive government' ring any bells?"

"They're not repressive Gee! They're simply trying to help civilization get back on its feet."

"They whipped me for being gay, Mikey."

Mikey stilled. His countenance changed from an expression of pure rage, to one of disbelief.

"They-"

"Yes Mikey, they did. And yes, it was for being gay."

Mikey let out an exasperated sigh.

"But Gee, we can't just leave Battery City, we have no idea what's even past the walls."

"How could it be any worse than what's inside the walls?"

"Don't be so damn despondent, it's not even that bad here."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you miss the part where I got publicly whipped for being gay?"

"No, I just-"

"You remember Luke?"

"Yeah of course, he was yo-"

"He got deported for being trans. God knows where he is now."

"That's where he went?"

"No, that's where he got taken. With force. _Against his will._ And there's been countless other cases like that. And like mine. Battery City isn't a good place Mikey. I mean, everyone has exactly the same life, for God's sake; Same haircut, same clothes, same house, same food. Everyone is just a carbon copy. This entire place had become completely homogenized. Battery City is a world of utopian uniformity. A metropolis of few risks, but even fewer rewards. We're safe, but we're bored. There's no danger any more, but there's no daring either. Fear has been eradicated, but so has freedom." Gerard eyes had fallen victim to a feral look of sporadic fear, and his angry words were emphasized with wild gesticulations. 

"And at the head of this tedious existence we now call reality? Better Living Industries! They promise a better life, but only within strictly defined parameters." Gerard paused, and a chilling silence hung in the balance between the two brothers.

"And I don't fit into those parameters, Mikey. I don't belong in Battery City. None of us do."

By now, Gerard had made his way across the dirty room they called home, and was staring longingly out the window, gaze fixed upon the distance grey strip that was the wall that stopped them all from leaving the godforsaken place.

"But out there?" Gerard gestured out of the window, and he turned to face Mikey with a soft, hopefulness in his eyes. "There's something different. Its wild and untamed."

With effort, Mikey swallowed past the lump in his throat and spoke into the cold, unwelcoming atmosphere of the room. "Exactly Gerard, it's unpredictable, we wouldn't survive out there."

"But there's a resistance Mikey." The feral look had returned to his eyes. "A group of people fighting back against BL/ind. A gang of outlaws known as the killjoys. They're building an army."

Mikey looked dubious. "And you want to join them?"

"Yes" Gerard nodded, and his eyes pleaded with his brother.

Mikey sighed again, and a fragile quiet fell over the room as the two stared at each other from across the room.

"When do we leave?"

Gerard's face lit up as he grinned wolfishly. "Tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna say that the words in italics and these '' are Mikey's inner monologue if it wasn't clear.

Gerard hoisted the bag up over his shoulder and tightening a few straps, before turning around to check on Mikey; barely able to contain his excitement, but also his gut-wrenching disquietude.

"Mikey, you ready?"

Mikey raised one eyebrow;

"No, not really. Why'd you ask?"

"Goddamit Mikey you're not helping."

"I don't know what you expect me to do."

"Shutting up and following me would be a start."

Mikey let out what must've been his fiftieth sigh this day, but clamped his mouth shut and walked over to the table Gerard was standing by.

"Do you know where we're going? I mean, do you even have a plan?"

"Do I have a pl- Of course I've got a plan you idiot, luck isn't exactly on our side in this situation."

"I don't luck has ever been on our side"

"You don't know the half of it."

Mikey threw Gerard a skeptical look.

"So... the plan?"

"Right, yeah. I've planned a route and monitored the rotations of patrols within Dead-Mans-Land, so, theoretically, we should be able to get over the wall without any interference."

"Theoretically?"

Gerard copied his younger brothers move from earlier on, and cocked one eyebrow at him.

"Yes, now let's go."

Mikey strode over to the door, unlocked it, then waited in the threshold for Gerard, who was busy turning off the lights in the house.

"Have you left anything to explain to mom and dad where we've gone.?" Mikey queried.

"Nah, they don't deserve an explanation,"

"Why?"

"They didn't do a thing when I got publicly whipped and humiliated. And they let doctors experiment on me. Then allowed said doctors to wipe my memories, which, for the record, didn't work – obviously – but the 'sentiment' is still there." Gerard clarified as he walked out of their tiny living unit, and slipping down a small service corridor that would lead them to the edge of the city, with Mikey by his side.

-

Gerard and Mikey crouched behind a small barricade of dark blue, 40-gallon metal barrels as the new group of Draculoids swapped with the other patrol team; the last rotation before the rota started again.

"Fuck, we missed the change." Gerard murmured into the cold night air. The temperatures of, what used to be America (now known as The Wasteland) fluctuated between scorching, during the day, and sub-zero temperatures during the night.

"Was it an integral part of the plan?"

Gerard stopped scrutinizing the patrol guards to throw Mikey a glare. "Not really, no. It was the entire plan."

"Oh shit."

"Oh shit, indeed"

"We can try again another time, Gee"

"No, Mikey, we-" Gerard let out a breath. "We're too close to just turn back. It's now or never."

Mikey's face was filled with apprehension.

"Are you sure about this?"

"As I'll ever be, just follow my lead, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Mikey smiled softly in the low light, and repeated an old joke they'd said to each other for as long as either of them could remember;

"Is that a threat?"

Gerard grinned back at him.

"It's a promise."

Gerard then rose from his cramped crouch before dodging around the barrels and heading toward towards the far-away wall at a run, bending slightly as he did, as to avoid the windows of the houses overlooking the outskirts of the city; the last thing they needed was someone to see them, lest they attempt to stop them, or worse, turn them into BL/ind.

Only seconds after Gerard, Mikey rose from behind their temporary defense and followed, hot on Gerard's heels. Although Mikey was apprehensive about the entire plan, he knew that it was better than sitting ducks inside the walls of Battery City, waiting for society to sort itself out. He knew that, whatever happened, he and Gerard would always watch each other's back; that as long as they were together, everything would be okay. However, Mikey was blissfully unaware that that would be one of the last times he would see Gerard smile.

Mikey lagged behind slightly as Gerard ran ahead, scouting out the area for potential threats, whether it was an unsuspecting civilian or a Drac looking to stop them doing exactly what they planned to do.

Up ahead, Gerard suddenly stopped running, and instead pressed himself against a wall to his left.

Mikey caught up to him, panting slightly as he copied Gerard's position, flattening his back against the cold stone wall of an old warehouse.

They stood there, inconspicuous, in the shadows. Waiting for whatever threat Gerard had seen to pass; A large group of Dracs marched past, all with the same face, the same sleek, black machine gun slung over their shoulder, and the same instinct to kill.

Their pristine, white suits strongly contradicted their surroundings: dusty streets, broken windows, and dilapidated buildings. While the center of the city was a metropolis of 'perfection', the further out you went, the fewer the people that inhabited the area. BL/ind. didn't like people living close to the edges of the city, for fear of attempts to escape.

In spite of that, living dead in the center of the city didn't deter the Way brothers from becoming essentially, renegades.

However, the sense of foreboding emanating from the patrolling Dracs, fit perfectly with the miasma of perturbation that lingered in the air.

Once the squadron had trooped past, Gerard slipped around the corner and onto the street on which the Dracs had just occupied. Mikey, on the other hand, didn't move from his spot against the wall.

"Gerard!" Mikey hissed.

His brother stopped walking down the now empty street to turn around and look at Mikey with a questioning demeanour.

"What is it now?"

Mikey stared at him with an expression of disbelief plastering his face. "We can't stroll down a street that just hosted a freakin' Drac patrol!" He responded in a hushed whisper.

"We're not going to be strolling. We're going to be sneaking."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Relax, Mikey. They're not going to think to look behind them; It's the perfect opportunity!"

A momentary pause.

"You better be freakin' right about this" Mikey huffed as he reluctantly joined Gerard on the cracked pavement of a road that was most likely going to lead them their impending doom.

"When have I been wrong about anything?"

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "Do you even remember my 7th birthday?"

Gerard looked at him guiltily. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Eh, you're forgiven."

"Seriously!?"

"Nope. I still have nightmares."

Mikey's brother huffed out a quiet laugh, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand; of which was a significant trait of Gerard's. He'd always done it, along with fiddling with the ends of his jaggedly cut, cropped hair, at the base of his neck.

The two began cautiously walking down the street, warily keeping watch for any Dracs that could still be lurking around even after the patrol had moved past.

The moon hung over their heads as if suspended on a string against a backdrop of dark, velvety blue. From here, Mikey could see the pin-pricks of light, that were the windows of the residential blocks on the outskirts of the inner city. The atmosphere reminded Mikey of the smell of rain on hot tarmac; unpleasant, yet oddly comforting. The air was cold. Unusual, considering the world had been cooked like a potato by solar flares, then reduced to little more than destroyed cities, vast deserts, and mutated beasts.

The illusion of peace, however, was disturbed when a loud bang sounded from within the old warehouse they were currently walking past, followed by a yelp and hushed profanities.

Gerard and Mikey shared a look.

The latter jerked his head towards the large metal door that was the entrance to the not-so-abandoned warehouse. "We should check it out." Mikey whispered to his brother.

Gerard's eyebrows comically shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline in surprise. "And risk jeopardizing the entire operation? I think the fuck not, Mikey."

The two began to quietly bicker about whether or not they should check the building out, so much so, that they failed to notice the door of the warehouse opening and two slim figures slipping out, who hesitated when they saw Gerard and Mikey arguing.

Mikey suddenly stopped flipping off Gerard as he noticed the two gangly guys that were staring at them in confusion and/or amusement. He then proceeded to prod Gerard in the shoulder and nod towards the onlookers, who's expressions then turned to ones of fear.

The slightly taller of the two spoke out. His voice was nervous and shaking, despite the defensive position that he had taken up; standing slightly in-front of the other boy, protecting him with his body.

"W- what are you doing so far out from the City center?"

Gerard mirrored the boy's stance; shielding Mikey from any potential harm the unknown boys may cause.

Mikey let out an exasperated sigh; he doubted that the two guys could do anything remotely dangerous. Even though they were taller than both Gerard and Mikey; standing at around 6ft, they were practically vibrating in fear.

Gerard's eyebrows pulled downwards as he answered the other man. "I could ask you the same- wait, Jack? Is that you?"

The one standing in front of the other perked up as soon as his name was mentioned and stepped out of the shadow of the building. Mikey could now vaguely see the features of his face in the dim light; dark brown hair was messily pushed backward off his face while black rimmed glasses framed his gentle eyes, of which were a similar colour to his hair. A layer of stubble covered the bottom of his face, and gave his once, almost friendly face, a rough, haggard look.

"Gerard! My main man!" Jack exclaimed as he strode towards the two brothers; long, lanky legs covering the ground between them in no time. Gerard left Mikey's side to meet Jack somewhere between the two very confused companions of the reuniting pair.

Gerard reached up to throw his arms around Jack's neck, while the latter leaned down into Gerard's embrace.

Mikey was taken aback; Gerard didn't hug anyone - Mikey being the only exception, but even then, he only did it to the bare minimum.

'Who the hell was this guy?'

Gerard turned back around to face Mikey, to properly introduce the 6ft 2 inches tall, annoyingly attractive guy that was most definitely fucking his brother, but was interrupted by the Man himself as he explained to his friend, who was still awkwardly waiting in the shadows, who the hell these people were.

"Uh Alex, this is Gerard. Gerard," Jack gestured to his friend. "Alex."

Alex stepped out of the shadows, and nervously went and stood next to Jack.

'For fuck's sake, why is Alex even hotter than Jack?'

Alex had light brown hair that was styled into a side fringe; sweeping down the right-hand side of his face, along with shaved sides. It seemed like Mikey and Gerard weren't the only people who 'rebelled' against BL/ind. by refusing to cut their hair. Alex's eyes were, from what Mikey could see in the near darkness, a soft brown, almost hazel, colour. Of which were warily flicking over the scene in front of him, as if waiting for Mikey or Gerard to attack him.

"Uh, hi? I'm Alex. Wait you already knew that. Oh shit, fuck I'm sorry." The guy was stumbling and tripping over his words - Mikey instantly sympathized with him; he'd had his fair share of experiences with social anxiety, but it seemed like Alex had it especially bad. Poor guy.

He had now started clutching his hands together, messing with the fingers on his left hand; bending them back and forth like he was about to snap them.

'A nervous trait maybe?'

Said hands were now clasped between Jacks,

'Holy shit this was taking a turn'

where upon he held them almost lovingly, and with a practised ease, like he'd done this before.

'Maybe he had.'

"Hey calm down Alex, it's alright. I've got you." Jack spoke soothingly, as if to small child, all while simultaneously stroking Alex's hands with his thumb. Mikey's eyes were fixed on the tattoo on Alex's left hand, a red rose covered the back of his hand with three letters underneath it, near the thumb, that looked like it could spell out T.W.G. He vaguely wondered what it could mean.

Mikey felt like he was intruding. He took back what he thought about Gerard and Jack; It was definitely Jack and Alex that were fucking. Or if they weren't, they should. Jack probably topped. Or was it Alex? No, definitely Jack. Just by looking at Alex, Mikey could tell that- "Mikey?" Gerard's voice broke through his train of thought.

"Hm? What? Yeah."

Mikey met his brother's gaze, where upon he was met with a glare.

'The fuck? Is he trying to impress these guys? Oh shit, what if they're all dating. Didn't think Gee was into polyamory. I ship it though, it's kinda cute.'

"This is Mikey, my idiot of a brother." Gerard told the others as he gestured towards said brother.

"Um, rude."

Mikey glared back at Gerard with an indignant look on his face, while Jack and Alex were once more submitted to a front row seat of the brother's petty arguments. Mikey noted that Jack was still holding Alex's hand.

"Nice to meet you, man" Jack nodded towards Mikey in a friendly gesture while Alex just flashed him a small smile. Mikey smiled back, in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

Gerard also smiled at the two, before walking back over to Mikey and grasping him by the elbow.

"Well it's been great to run into you guys, but we need to go. Urgent business to attend to."

'Gerard what the fuck why are you telling these people our plans to escape.'

Jack's eyebrows rose. "What business?"

'There we fucking go, congrats Gee you've really screwed us up now.'

"We're escaping."

'Are you fucking-'

"Holy shit, you are?" Alex exclaimed. A look of surprise and intrigue had taken over his face - it was a nice change from the terrified expression that had dominated his face for all the time Mikey had known him. Which, admittedly, hadn't actually been that long.

"You know it." Gerard replied, smirking.

'Gee, stop flirting'

"Well that is purely coincidental." Jack now had the same expression as Alex, only it was plagued by a mischievousness grin as well.

One of Gerard's eyebrows slid up his face. Mikey didn't think he'd ever seen Gerard's eyebrows move so much till today. Then again, he hadn't really seen his brother until today. The phrase 'repressive government' was starting to ring a few bells.

"Oh yeah? Why is it coincidental"

"Because tonight's the night I'm escaping too."

The two brothers stilled.

'Did Gerard know about this?'

"Oh fuck." Gerard breathed out heavily.

'Guess not.'

Mikey made a split-second decision. Jack was not going to come with them. Stranger Danger, kids. Stranger Danger.

"You wanna come with us?" Queried Gerard.

'Um, I think not Gee, what the hell happened to 'we're in this together, and together alone?'

Jack looked surprised.

"Ya know, safety in numbers and all that."

"There's also death in numbers, Gee. It's called a massacre. Or a bloodbath. Or Carnage. Or Slaughter. Or Butchery. Or- "

"Mikey, that's enough."

"Are you sure? I've got a list."

"Yes, now be quiet." His brother turned away from him to the most-definitely-a-couple-just-look-at-that-sexual-tension and asked Jack again if he wanted to come.

'Say no, please say no.' Mikey silently begged.

"Yeah, sure thing man, if I'm welcome."

'You most certainly are not.'

"Yeah of course you are. But, we should get going."

Jack nodded before turning back to Alex, presumably to kiss him goodbye, just as Gee turned back to Mikey, with a disappointed look on his face.

"You know you don't have to be rude to everyone you meet." Gerard somewhat hissed at him.

"I wasn't rude! I smiled at Alex." Mikey argued back in hushed tones.

"Mikey, please, just until we get out the city."

Mikey let out a sigh, before letting his shoulders slump in resignation. He reached up to pat Gerard's shoulder and pulled his face into a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything else. "For you – anything."

Gee opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Jack saying "Alright, we best be off." As Alex helped him pull on a rucksack that was literally almost as big as his torso.

"Right, uh, just follow us, I guess."

And with that, the three, headed on down the road - disappearing into the shadows, while Alex looked solemnly on; already missing the warm, comforting presence of the man he loved, but doubted he'd ever see again.

-

The wall was towering above them, casting even more shadows upon the trio than Mikey thought was scientifically possible.

The wall, although only reaching a height of 10 feet, was imposing and towered over them. It was made of cold, gray rock, and cast large, ominous shadows on the dusty ground of Dead-Mans-Land. Not to mention that it was this, that kept the residents of Battery City contained and sectioned off from whatever world remained.

While Gerard had been chasing the impossible tales of desert rebels and revolution, Mikey had found out about the world outside of the walls. Or at least, the world that had once been. But one day, via an old radio that Mikey had tampered with until it could pick up broadcasts from beyond Battery City's walls, he'd found out about the other civilizations. He'd found out about the ramshackle cities that were like the slums and shanty towns of the world before the apocalypse. He'd found out about the raiders, and the survivalists that existed outside of BL/ind.'s rule. He'd found out that, despite BL/ind.'s insistence, humanity was rebuilding itself.

But as much as he heard about freedom and hope, he also learned about everything else: The extreme poverty that dominated these corrugated iron cities, that left people with no choice, but to resort to murder, and stealing, simply to survive. The people that were killed or mutated by the radiation that still clung to the earth like a blanket of dust. To the thousands of people, who were taken from their 'homes' and brought here, to Battery City, against their will, before being forced into a life of utopian uniformity. And BL/ind. was spreading. It was taking over other cities, and their people – which left California a dry, hot, empty desert, with every hope of freedom, diminishing by the minute.

And here they were, about to escape from this oppressive rule and enter a world of unpredictability and uncertainty.

"Mikey? You still with us?"

Mikey nodded, meeting the gaze of his brother.

"Good. Now do exactly what I say, and nothing else."

Mikey nodded again in confirmation.

Gerard slipped the rucksack of his back, before leaning back and slinging it over the wall. There was a dull thud as it hit the ground on the other side.

"Alright, Jack toss your pack over."

Jack stared at Gerard for a few seconds, as if waiting for him to say that he was joking. When he didn't, Jack sighed and unslung his rucksack from his shoulders and threw it over the wall. There was another subdued thud, like there had been with Gerard's bag. Except for this time, there was the muffled sound of shattering glass. Gerard looked at Jack questioningly.

"That is why I didn't want to throw it."

"Oh, uh, right. Well, Jack, you're gonna go over first to make sure the packs are alright."

"Did the shattering of glass sound even remotely good?"

"Be quiet and come over here."

'Damn Gee, dominant, are we?'

As Gerard linked his hands together to form some kind of step, Jack placed his right foot into Gerard's intertwined hands and his hand onto Gerard's shoulder.

"Okay, you ready?"

"On three, or after three?" Jack questioned.

"After three." Gerard replied.

Mikey watched on as his brother counted to three in a quiet whisper, before boosting Jack up. The latter grabbed on to the top of the wall, and in one smooth motion, hauled himself over it before, rather ungracefully, falling back down to the ground on the other side.

He had made it.

Mikey scanned the area behind them – they'd already made it through the barbed wire fence and had crossed the patrol road. Albeit, with great trepidation.

"Alright Mikey, you're up next."

Mikey turned back around to face his brother, who was waiting expectantly, with his fingers still laced together.

Mikey copied what Jack had done, and placed his foot into Gerard's hands.

"After three?"

"After three"

Gerard counted to three once more, and then boosted Mikey up, so he could grab onto the wall. Mikey did as such, and pulled himself up into a sitting position on the top of the wall, legs swinging over the desert below. He twisted around to face Gerard.

"Gee" He hissed. "How are you gonna get up?"

His brother stilled. "Fuck. I didn't think of that."

Mikey rotated around, so he was lying on the wall; the stone digging into his ribcage, and giving Jack a wonderful view of his ass. He stretched his arm down to Gerard, thanking the gods he didn't believe in that he was so lanky.

"Grab my hand. I can pull you up."

Gerard hesitated. "Are you strong enough?"

"No. But grab on anyway."

Gerard stepped closer to the wall, and was just about to take a hold of Mikey's hand, when a cacophony of shouts from a group of Draculoids, rang out across no-mans-land from a nearby watch tower.

Gerard's eyes widened, as did Mikey's, as they became aware of the patrolling group of Draculoids, that they had somehow overlooked.

"Gee! Grab my hand!"

Gerard did so, and began to hurriedly pull himself up the wall. Mikey hoisted him up until he could grab onto the top of the wall and support himself, whereupon he released his brother's hand; leaving Mikey hanging on one side, and Gerard on the other. The former prepared to release his grip on the wall, and drop to the ground below, where Jack was waiting.

However, it was then, that the Draculoids started shooting.

-

Mikey couldn't see what was happening. All he could hear was the sounds of machine guns rattling, of which were aiming at his brother.

A pained yelp reached Mikey's ears, signifying that Gerard had been hit. Yelling out his brother's name, Mikey pulled himself on top of the wall, and into a crouch; nimble feet balancing on the thin ridge.

Gerard was slumped against the wall, blood smeared over his hands and torso. A large gaping wound in his side shocked Mikey into silence, as the probability of them both getting out alive lessened by the minute.

"Gee!"

"Mikey! You have to go!"

"No way am I leaving you!" Mikey yelled back over the omnipresent sound of gunfire. "I'm coming down to help you!"

"Don't you fucking dare come down here, Mikey Way!" Gerard managed to cough out, as blood began to slowly drip down his mouth and onto his already bloodstained shirt.

"Gee please! We can both make it!"

His brother didn't say anything as he hauled himself up, heavily supporting his body by leaning on the wall, grunting in pain as he did so.

"No Mikey, go with Jack. I'll distract them." He spoke with a grimace, as if every breath hurt him. Which it probably did.

"Gerard, no! I'm not going to just desert you."

"You and I both know that I'm not going to make it over that wall. And I'll be damned if I let you get captured"

Mikey now became aware that tears were streaking down his face, rolling down his cheeks until the fell into the dust below. His brother likewise had tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

"No..." Mikey quietly whispered as the sound of gunfire died down, replaced by the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way. The Dracs had clearly given up shooting at them, due to them being too far away to do any more significant damage. Although the damage they had already done was pretty damn significant in Mikey's eyes, of which were now blurry with tears.

"Please, Gee. Don't." Mikey's words were broken by soft sobs, as the realization that his brother could die, began to crash down upon him.

But despite Mikey's protests, Gerard just softly smiled back at him, and with one hand pressed to the wound in his side, he raised the other to his forehead, in a two-fingered salute. "Take care, baby bro." He smirked.

And with that, Gerard turned on his heel and began to run towards the left side of the Patrol - drawing them away from his brother; saving, his brother. Just like he'd always promised to do.

And Mikey was left to watch his brother run towards certain doom, still perched on top of the wall.

-

Mikey didn't know if Gerard was dead or alive.

He hadn't seen the 'final showdown'.

Only gunshots.

Jack was gone too. Mikey had finally dismounted the wall, tears still gracing his face, only to find that Jack had run, while Mikey was busy trying to save his soon-to-be-dead brother.

Alex would be thrilled to know his boyfriend was a pussy.

And now, Mikey was faced with an empty expanse of pitch black desert, with nothing, but the rucksack his brother had left behind. He had no idea where he was, no idea where to go, and no idea how to survive in general. And not to mention, he didn't even have a weapon.

He was completely and utterly screwed.

But he would make it.

He would survive.

Because Gerard didn't.


	3. Chapter 3

Mikey wasn’t used to being alone.

Even when Gerard had been taken away -as he now knew- to be experimented on, he’d never, truly, been alone.

But now; faced with the desolate, lonely plains of the desert that used to be California, the hopelessness of his current predicament was now painfully present to Mikey.

The anxiety began to bubble up in his chest as he imagined a world without the comforting presence of his brother. They were supposed to stay together. They were supposed to be a team. If Mikey had just done a little more, Gerard would be with him.

If Mikey wasn’t utterly useless, Gerard would be alive.   

Not knowing what to do next, Mikey had slumped against the cold concrete of the wall, intending to sleep, but only ever fell into a restless state of half-awake-half-asleep.

Now, Mikey was watching the empty horizon of desert shimmer before his eyes – a result of the scorching, early morning sun. Sweat had already begun to drip down his sides.

Mikey couldn’t help but compare his sweat, to Gerard’s blood.

Mikey heaved himself to his feet, one hand braced against the wall for support – now that Gerard was no longer here to help him up when he needed it. The other hand grabbed a hold of the rucksack that was pitifully resting against the wall as Mikey had, and covered in a thick layer of dust despite only being in the desert for under 24 hours. Mikey was likewise covered in a layer of dust, his once immaculate uniform was torn in various places and was now also home to tiny, almost unnoticeable splatters of blood.

‘ _Where the hell do I go from here?_ ’

Reaching towards the bag that was clutched in his now sweating hands, Mikey unzipped the front compartment -albeit with some difficulty- and pulled out a map, before zipping shut the bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

Mikey unfolded the map, smearing sweat and dust over the clean, alabaster-white paper of Gerard’s home drawn map. The grey pencil lines that graced the surface of the paper, painfully reminded Mikey of the times when he would come back from his ten-hour regime of lessons in the nearby district building, to find his brother stood in front of his bedroom wall or hunched over whatever spare piece of paper he could find. Gerard drawing was a common sight within their tiny living unit, using sticks of charcoal or the occasional pencil Mikey could steal from the district building.

BL/ind. rationed everything - not just food. Clothes, shoes, medicine. Even paper and pencils were only allowed to be used when in a district building, hence why Mikey had to sneak them out. If someone were to go over the amount of supplies they were allocated with, it would result in death. A lot of things resulted in death actually. Life, being the main one. But also, petty crimes like using two shots of penicillin on an ill patient instead of just one, or like stealing food for your starving family. The Privileged, of course, get it better than the rest of the civilians; they’re allowed twice as much as the supplies said civilians had got, even though they had half the people to care for. Rations were given out per family, which meant that a small family like Mikey and Gerard’s, consisting of two adults and two children were reasonably well off compared to others. Mikey knew a guy called Lincoln in his Firearm Management Class who had a family of 12, they had gone to their district’s Board of Governors and requested that they be allowed more rations. But said Board of Governors simply refused their plea, and then a week later, the entire family got deported to God knows where.

Mikey had never even thought for one second that he may lose his family like Lincoln had.

But here he was, standing alone on the outskirts of a vast desert, with only the fading memory of his brother drawing on their bedroom walls, to keep him company.

Mikey vaguely recalled reading something in an old book in one of the supervisor’s offices when he was supposed to be in class. Something about following the sun to navigate? He wasn’t sure if that was correct or whether it had been from a fiction book. He wouldn’t know from experience whether it was or not. In the city, the buildings were tall and ominous, made of imposing dark metal and adorned with brass piping, which ranged from small tubes the size of a coin to ones that were over 20 feet in diameter. It was through these tubes that people passed from building to building, meaning that people never got to see the sky, never mind what was outside of the city walls. I mean, sure, there were windows, but they were tilted at an angle so that if one were to look out, all they would see were the looming darkness of the buildings opposite and the heavy smog that seemed to permeate everything.

From an extremely young age, all children were taught that to try and leave the buildings was a crime worse than murder. Korse had often made public announcements to explain that it was for the safety of the people. And for all his life, Mikey had believed that to be true.

Until, on the night of his 15th birthday, Gerard had taken him outside.

His brother had blindfolded him and had led him through metal hallway after metal hallway until Mikey had lost track of where they were going. He trusted his brother not to lead him to his imminent doom, and eventually, he stopped questioning him. That was until Gerard led him through what he supposed was a breach in the containment walls, and he felt a warm breeze on his face, he knew that his brother had taken him outside. And that, was against protocol.

Mikey had ripped the blindfold off and was faced with his softly smiling brother, who seemed completely oblivious to Mikey’s inner panic.

Gerard was ripped from his ever-rare reverie as Mikey began to yell at him, questioning as to why he had broken the most important rule in the book.

“Gerard! What the hell? Why are we outside? We can’t be outside, we could get killed for this Gee! Why the hell did you think this was a good idea? I knew this was a bad idea. Oh god, we should’ve just stayed at home, where we won’t get killed for going against protocol!”

Mikey was slowly getting more and more panicked, and in his terrified haze, he was unaware of his chest tightening and his breath getting caught in his throat. He didn’t even realise that he had begun to cry until Gerard was by his side, a gentle hand on his shoulder, and a calming voice upon his ears.

“Mikes, listen to my voice, okay? You need to calm down, nothing is going to happen to you, I’ll make sure of that, okay?”

Mikey focused on Gerard’s face, eyes flicking over his features, as he sought to calm himself down. “But Gee! No one has ever gone outside. Not since the Old Times.”

“I have.”

Mikey stilled. “You have?” He asked disbelievingly.

“Yeah, plenty of times.”

Mikey stared at his brother in awe. None of the people living in the city had ever gone beyond the containment walls. None of them had ever breathed real air, or felt the wind on their faces. They had been told that it was too dangerous. Too risky.

But now, Mikey was outside.

A small smile broke his features, and he slipped out of his brother’s embrace to look at his surroundings.

There wasn’t much there, to be perfectly honest, but that was enough.

Mikey and Gerard were stood by a small, neatly cut hole in one of the small transport pipes that, only a few feet away, burrowed in the ground, whereupon it would become part of the city-wide network of tubing that kept the city alive and functioning. They were standing in a small courtyard, only 10 metres wide, that stretched between their accommodation building, and the outskirts of Sector 7.

Mikey craned his neck back, and was met with a sight that he had never ever dreamed of seeing.

Dark purple clouds were rolling above his head, mixing with blacks and greys as -what he would come to know as- a storm, brewed in the heavens. He became aware of the muffled sound of rumbling, and he whirled around on the spot, trying to determine where the noise was coming from.

Sound was something the city people were unaccustomed to; The only place where there was noise that wasn’t caused by one’s self, was the canteen and mess hall. But even then, the chatter was kept to a strict murmur, for fear of saying something out of line.

Within the city, there was an omnipresent sound of silence.

There was a quiet laugh from behind him, and Mikey spun around to be faced with a smiling Gerard.

Mikey scowled back. “What are you laughing at?”

“That’s called thunder, Mikey.”

“What the hell is thunder? And why does it make a sound?”

His brother walked over to stand next to him and mirrored Mikey’s position, so he too, was staring at the abundance of dark, strong colours that electrified the sky above.

“Well, thunder is caused by lightning. When a lightning bolt travels from the cloud to the ground it actually opens up a little hole in the air, called a channel. Once then light is gone the air collapses back in and creates a sound wave that we hear as thunder.”

Mikey ceased looking at the sky to fix Gerard with a blank look.

“What in the bloody hell is- “

Mikey was cut off by a loud CRACK and a flash of scorching white light that lit up the dark buildings, and the equally dark sky. Mikey let out a small yelp and shifted closer to his brother’s side, staring up at the sky with wide eyes.

Gerard’s mouth was now pulled up into the first genuine smile Mikey had seen on him in a long time.

“That, little brother, was lightning.”

Mikey’s face broke out into a smile. “So cool.” He murmured as he kept his gaze fixed on the rolling clouds above.

They stood there together, watching the clouds shift above them, each lost in their own worlds. That was until Mikey felt a small drop of water on his cheek. He looked around in confusion. Was there a broken pipe above them? His eyes flickered over the surrounding metal walls, looking for something that could’ve dripped onto his cheek. Nothing.

“Hey Mikey, you alright?” Gerard too had stopped looking at the sky to focus on his brother. Mikey met his gaze.

“Yeah, it’s just, something dripped on me.”

Gerard snorted. “That’s kinda gay Mikey.”

Mikey nudged Gerard’s shoulder with his own. “I mean it, Gee. What was it?”

Before Gerard could answer, Mikey felt another drop on his face, and another. He could feel the drops hitting him all over, quickly soaking through the thin uniforms that all the city people were required to wear.

He heard Gerard laugh again, as he grabbed Mikey’s arm and pulled him under the cover of one of the larger service pipes.

“That’s rain, Mikey.”

Mikey slowly stretched his hand out from under the cover and smiled when the water droplets began to splash against his palm. He walked out into the centre of the courtyard, smile slowly growing as the rain began to run down his face, and mingle with his hair.

A small laugh bubbled up his throat. After spending 15 years trapped within the confines of this concrete city, he was finally _outside._ Rain was falling on his face, and he could hear the low rumble of thunder above him.

For the first time in his life, Mikey felt alive.

But he was torn from his reverie when Gerard hurriedly left the cover of the pipe with a surprised exclamation of “What the hell?”

Mikey turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong”

Gerard’s eyebrows were drawn deeply down and his eyes were flicking over the side of the building that marked the beginning of Sector 7. “I thought I saw something.”

“Something as in… what?”

“There was a figure running along the pipes at the top of the building.”

Mikey waited for his brother to continue.

“It can’t have been a Drac patrol, they don’t get around like that. Safety protocol or something, that they have to follow. But it wasn’t one of my guys either, no one’s scheduled to go out.”

“Wait _, your guys_? Drac patrols? What the hell is going on Gerard, I thought you were the only one to leave.”

“There are regular Drac patrols that search the city for people trying to leave. They shoot on sight, no questions asked. Nobody can know that it’s safe to leave.”

“Right. And who are _your_ guys? Explain, young man.” Mikey raised one eyebrow, doing the best impression of their mother he could.

Gerard looked sheepish. “Well, I have a squadron of guys, and we, uh, regularly leave the buildings.”

“What do you guys do out here?”

“At first, it was just exploration, buy when we found that it was easy to leave, we began to map the city, record Drac patrols, that kind of thing.”

“Have any of you ever been caught?”

Gerard’s face dropped, and Mikey was all too aware of the pain in his eyes. He hesitated before he answered.

“Yeah, two guys that were on a patrol together. Axel and Kieran. They were only 15. Dracs got them and all we could do was watch. They didn’t kill them there and then, but-“ Gerard drew in a shaky breath. “We can only assume the worse.” He flashed Mikey a weak smile.

Mikey couldn’t tell whether Gerard was crying, or it was simply the rain running down his cheeks, but he stepped towards his brother and wrapped his arms around him.

They stood like that for a while, Mikey clutching Gerard, and the latter resting his head upon Mikey’s.

When Mikey began to quake from the chill settling into his bones, Gerard pulled back from their embrace. “Come on, we should head back. I don’t want you to get pneumonia.”

“What’s pneumonia?”

Gerard let out a small laugh, before placing his arm around Mikey’s shoulders and guiding him back towards the breach in the pipe.

And then they stepped through the opening, back into the service corridor and Mikey had already begun to miss the feeling of the rain upon his skin.

“Can I come outside again?”

Gerard smiled at him. “Of course.”

Mikey had never seen the sky again.

Until now.

He clenched his fist around the crisp paper that was Gerard’s map. Mikey wasn’t sure if there even was life outside the city. All he knew was that to be caught in the desert at night, was a fate worth than death. Gerard had told him stories of the beasts outside of the city, the results of nuclear fallout. Of course, back then, Mikey hadn’t believed his tales of the murderous monsters that inhabited the desert. But now, he wasn’t so sure that Gerard had been lying.

And so, Mikey took a deep breath, and set off across the desert, following the trail of fire that painted the sky.

-

Mikey wasn’t quite sure how long he had been walking.

The sun was beating down on the back of his head, making his eyes water, and his head swim.

He had ripped up one of the shirts from the rucksack and had tied the strips around his exposed skin, in an effort to prevent sunburn. Alas, that had not worked; Mikey’s skin was peeling and red, causing an omnipresent pain all over his body. His shoulders were aching and rubbed raw, courtesy of the rough straps of the rucksack, and sweat was dripping down his sides, literally rolling off him in waves.

The only thing that was keeping him going was the faint blob in the horizon that he was 90% sure was some kind of building. He didn’t know how intact said building would be after spending a little over a 100 years facing the extreme weather of the desert. Destroyed or not, Mikey welcomed the thought of shelter from the blistering sun, even if it was limited. And very far in the distance.

Mikey trudged on, chaffed hands clutching the dusty straps of the bag. He had long given up trying to use the map, what Gerard had been thinking, he had no idea. How the hell do you map an empty desert?

_‘I mean, out of everyone, Gerard could probably do it. He has a knack for those things.’_

Mikey hadn’t even realised that he had just insinuated that Gerard was still alive. He was too caught up in the prospect of dying alone in the desert, and how nice it would be if he were to just let his knees buckle, let his body fall to the ground, and just rest…

Mikey hit the ground before he even realised he was falling.

The burning hot sand scorched the side of his face, but he couldn’t find the energy to move. The urge to lay down and give up was growing by the minute, and Mikey hadn’t the strength to resist it.

“Mikey?”

Mikey’s eyes snapped open. He hadn’t even been aware they were closed.

But he knew that voice.

He dragged his head up from the floor, half shut eyes scanning the empty desert in search for the person who could’ve spoken.

And then a hand was grasping his shoulder, and someone was helping him to stand, letting Mikey lean heavily against them. The latter opened his mouth, intending to thank the person. But that was before he caught sight of who exactly the person was.

Mikey froze.

_'It can’t be.’_

It was.

Mikey let out a choked sob, lunging forward despite his aching muscles, to throw his arms around the neck of his saviour and buried his head into their neck. “Oh God” He whispered, “I thought I lost you.”

Another small sob, and a shaky breath.

“I thought you were dead.”

Mikey couldn’t believe this. He’d been so afraid of dying alone in the desert, but now? Now he had hope.

Now, he had his brother back.

Mikey pulled back from their embrace, tears running down his face and mixing with the many layers of dirt that now lived on his face. He smiled up at Gerard, who, surprisingly, was smiling softly back.

“What happened? How did you get out?”

Gerard opened his mouth to answer, and Mikey prepared himself for whatever sassy remark would come out of his mouth.

But then, all of a sudden, Gerard was gone.

And Mikey was left alone in the desert once more.

-

The ramshackle building was taunting Mikey from where it stood less than 100 metres away.

Sand was blowing in his eyes, tears were running down his face, and sweat was dripping down his forehead.

Just a few more steps.

Mikey wearily put one foot in front of the other, watching as his feet blurred before his eyes, and his head pounding from dehydration and fatigue.

The building got closer ever slowly, nothing more than a black smudge in Mikey’s hazy gaze.

As he got closer to the building, he noticed that there were large chunks of rock with tendrils of metal rebars sticking out, scattered around the building, forming a sort of courtyard in front of said building. Mikey figured that the once tall building had fallen down, leaving behind only the first few floors and scattered remnants of a forgotten past.

As he made his way through the pillars of fallen rock, the hair on the back of Mikey’s neck stood on end, and he got a strange feeling that he was being watched. Nevertheless, he was all too tired to care about a superstition that was probably just his delirious mind playing tricks on him. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

Mikey sighed in relief as he crossed the stone threshold of the building, and took shelter from the overpowering sun in the shade. Even though he still felt like he was being cooked alive like one of the synthetically grown potatoes in the canteen back in Battery City, he had finally found shelter.

He managed to walk a grand total of five steps before his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor – exhausted body slumping against a slanted slab of rock he figured could’ve once been part of the 7th floor.

He sat there for a few minutes, leaning against the rock – eyes screwed firmly shut, and breath coming in short wheezes.

Aching arms slowly unhooked the bag from his shoulders, before dragging it across the warm stone floor, where upon he promptly laid his down on top of it, not caring about the straps and buckle digging into his face, and fell asleep, not caring if he was going to wake up.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Mikey awoke to the sound of voices.

Through his sleepy haze, he was dimly aware of the low murmurs that were coming from beyond the threshold of the dilapidated building.

As he rubbed away the last remnants of sleep with his grimy hands, Mikey sat up, and noticed that the blazing sun was gone from the sky, and in its place, was an empty expanse of black that was littered with small pinpricks of light. Mikey didn’t know what the little floating lights were; his brother had never told him about them.

He liked them though.

They reminded him of the way Gerard’s eyes used to be.

Mikey winced as he sat up, the majority of the bones in his body cracking loudly in the hazy quiet of the now dark desert.

Silent.

Except for the voices.

Mikey’s eyes shot open, stretching comically wide as he had an epiphany that the voices must belong to people.

 _Other_ people.

The lanky boy pulled himself to his feet, nearly whimpering as he became aware of the dull ache that was settling itself in his bones, and the shock of pain that lanced up the left side of his body; resonating from his knee.

Mikey took a moment to gather himself before he slowly began to limp towards the voices that were coming from what seemed to be the courtyard that had been formed by the highest floors vacating their correct position of being on top of the building, instead of around it.

When Mikey reached the crumbling entrance to the building, he stretched out a hand to brace himself against the worn stone wall; hours of being in the constant sun without any food or water were beginning to take their toll on him. Even so, he lifted his head, and looked out across the darkened courtyard, to see 5 people, all dressed in black clothing, standing in a cluster. They were quietly muttering to each other, all seeming to be displaying a different emotion;

The biggest guy of the group was stood between two of the others who appeared to be arguing with each other, despite the man stood between them. In the half light of the moon (at least, that’s what Mikey _thinks_ it’s called) he could see that the man’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed and he had an exasperated look on his face. He had his hand against the chest of a guy with shoulder length black hair, who was arguing with a slightly taller boy with short cropped brown hair and a frustrated expression. The latter was waving his hands around and was speaking extremely fast in a hushed tone.

The other two looked on with bored expressions, as if the two arguing was a common occurrence. By the looks of it, it probably was.

As Mikey shuffled closer, he caught snippets of their heated exchange.

“We _have_ to attack him, he has valuable-”

“We _can’t_. He’s from the city.”

“Both of you, stop arguing.”

“We could easily take him out. It’s just one guy!”

Mikey realized they were in fact, talking about him. It was at this point he realized he should probably get his ass out of here and never come back.

He took a step away from the group of desert vigilante’s, intending to slowly back towards his pack and run like hell, until he was far, far away.

But of course, God gave him the middle finger.

His left leg crumpled beneath the weight of Mikey’s body, pitching him heavily forward onto the cold, hard sand as he let out a strangled yelp of pain.

_‘Fuck.’_

The group froze, and went quiet.

Ominously, they turned towards him, and once they saw it was him who had made the noise, they all pulled out a various array of weapons. If Mikey wasn’t 97% sure he was going to die, he would be curious about the strange staff that one of them held, that seemed to spark with electricity.

“Restrain him.” Came one of the voices from before.

As Mikey began to hurriedly scramble backwards, trying and failing to climb to his feet, the group ran at him.

Before Mikey knew what was happening, he had been flipped over into the dirt and his arms had been wrenched behind his back; forcing him into a kneeling position. The guy with long hair from before stood in front of him, twirling a knife with intricate carvings in his left hand. The biggest guy, who Mikey now realized was probably the leader, was the one holding his arms behind him in an _incredibly uncomfortable_ position, and he used one hand to grab Mikey’s hair and wrench his head backwards, exposing his throat.

The knife guy stepped forward, blade reflecting the silver glow of the moon, while the others stood intimidatingly behind him.

Mikey took a sharp intake of breath as the cold bite of the man’s knife made contact with his throat, and for a moment of silence stretched between the two, made of gossamer threads and unspoken fear.

“What are you doing alone in the desert?” His voice was rough and interrogative, breaking the tense quiet that hung between the two strangers.

Mikey kept silent.

The other man stepped away from Mikey, then motioned to one of the people behind him, who stepped forward and took the leaders place in front of Mikey.

In the dull light of the moon, he could see that they were a woman. Her hair was jaggedly cut, and came down to just below her ears. One side had been completely shaved off, exposing bare skin that was marked with strange black designs, while the rest had been messily scraped over to the other side. The one ear that wasn’t covered with hair, appeared to be glinting in the light of the fire-lit torch that one of the other members of this strange desert assassin group had lit. When Mikey looked closer, he could see that it wasn’t the ear that was glinting, it was, in-fact, multiple loops of metal that went _through her ears._

Mikey also noticed that she had similar loops on her fingers, only they were thicker, didn’t go through her skin, and were all joined together.

However, Mikey didn’t have time to admire her strange metal loops, because the ones adorning her fingers made heavy contact with the left side of his face, tearing through his skin and snapping his head to the side.

_‘Right then.’_

Nonchalantly, he spat out the blood in his mouth, and raised his head to meet the hard gaze of the woman.

He remained quiet.

She then crouched down, levelling her face with his, which wasn’t that difficult considering she was pretty small. A sly smirk graced her features and her eyes seemed to glint in the low light.

Without breaking eye contact, she took his wrist in her small, delicate hands, pulling back the sleeve of his government issued jacket with a surprising amount of care and then snapped his right arm in two.

The loud crack of shattering bone echoed out across the courtyard, and there was a moment of silence before Mikey’s screams pierced through the heavy veil of midnight.

Soon after that, Mikey stopped feeling whatever the woman did to him. He was dimly aware of his face being struck over and over with the finger rings, but the pain didn’t break through the heavy feeling of numbness.

His vision was blurring, and blood was slowly dripping down from his face to his neck, where it soaked into the dirty jacket that had belonged to his brother.

Still, he said nothing.

Mikey was then roughly shoved to the ground, at the merciless hands of the woman, and he heard himself let out a muffled grunt as he struck the floor.

He waited for the woman to return, but she didn’t. Instead, the last member of the group; the one that wasn’t holding the torch crouched down next to him. The man was swimming in and out of Mikey’s vision as he felt himself slowly slipping from consciousness.

His skin was darker than the others, and he had hair that was scraped back into multitudes of tiny braids that ended at the nape of his neck. The man reached out and grasped Mikey’s shoulders, pushing him over onto his back, exposing his face and neck to the vast expanse of sky that hung over the desert. Weathered hands encircled his neck, constricting Mikey’s throat, and he began to writhe underneath the man as he choked and spluttered due to a lack of air.

With his vision fading quicker than it already had been, Mikey reached up an arm that felt like lead and grabbed the man’s arm, attempting to wrench it away from his throat.

But to no avail.

Mikey’s arm fell to his side, and he feebly struggled as his consciousness began to dissipate.

_‘Is this where I’m going to die?’_

It appeared so, as his eyes, that felt as though they were being dragged down by weights, reluctantly closed, and he felt himself sink down, as though he was slowly falling away from the land of the living,

Mikey only hoped that he would see his brother again.


	5. Chapter 5

Death was a peaceful thing.

It was oddly comforting, to feel the fire within your bones slowly extinguish; to feel your mind grow numb and your heart turn cold.

But death was terrifying too.

As the last bit of strength leeches from your veins, you succumb to fear. To the crashing wave of dread that fills your lungs, and gushes down your nose, leaving nothing but a shell of a body with the spirit long gone.

It was for some time, that Mikey hung in the balance between everything and nothing all at once, suspended in an empty expanse of black that was filled with radio static.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t talk.

He couldn’t even think.

He could only feel.

Mikey was dimly aware of the dull ache that permeated his entire being. Not only was there a crackling network of pain that ran through his bones and dragged heavily at his joints, but he felt as though his very mind was under siege.

He felt as though he was trapped upon a sinking ship; slowly being dragged down into a darkness below that hid things no sane man could ever dream of. Mikey didn’t suppose there was an option to abandon ship.

He felt distant and disarranged somehow. Like he was made of shattered melodies and broken mosaics, caught between a daydream and the end of the time. Merely existing, as sprays of sea salt memories melded into one and scattered across Mikey’s soul like delicate rose petals.

But then all of a sudden, the black that smothers him like a blanket is shifting into a kaleidoscope of colours, and he is chasing somebody across a no-mans-land of marigolds and sunflowers. Though Mikey can’t feel himself running, he is sure that he knows the person he’s trying to catch.

But before he can grasp the person in his arms, they’re gone, and Mikey is left alone in a flurry of crushed dandelions.

He stands alone on a horizon of a setting sun, and the softly swaying fields of flowers around him begin to burn. Red, orange, caramel-golden particles of ash are rising around Mikey, spiralling into the air like white noise. The strange world burns and crumbles away, leaving Mikey suspended in darkness once more, without any hope of getting home.

And then there’s a voice breaking through the ever expansive silence; it’s deep and resonates between the layers of Mikey’s epidermis like a vibration. He can’t see who it belongs to, but for a moment, Mikey thinks it’s his brother.

He is wrong.

The voice is echoing around him, washing over his dormant body in repetitive waves. It’s a man's voice, Mikey decides, as it continues to speak through the darkness of his subconscious that he is unwillingly trapped within. He can feel a hand ghosting over his cheek, but there’s nothing there. At least, not in here at least. The hand is now grazing down to his neck, and Mikey wants to squirm away from the touch, but is still unable to move his body.

The feather-light touched draws away, before it abrubtly returns in the form of a palm striking the side of Mikey’s face.

With a jolt, he’s falling down into darkness, and back into a world that’s even more lonely and desolate than his own mind.


End file.
